


when the city sleeps

by technosoot



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Actors, Enemies to Lovers, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, they're both idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:42:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29413578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/technosoot/pseuds/technosoot
Summary: george and clay are actors forced to pretend to like each other, despite their college-age rivalries.or where clay can't admit his feelings for a pretty boy named george.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 168
Collections: mcyt writers valentine's day blind date event!





	when the city sleeps

**Author's Note:**

> a few things!  
> \- props to bella (@notphilosopherstudentblog on tumblr) for helping me edit this! 
> 
> \- also schlatt's character in this (and most of the cameos) are based on their character on the smp, however dream & george's are a mix of smp & irl
> 
> \- **warning** : there are details of alcohol and drinking (more specifically being drunk/tipsy) 
> 
> \- this is part of the mcyt valentine's day fic write! the au is actors and the trope is enemies to lovers! 
> 
> \- this is for the wonderful azzie!! (@cavalreee on here, and @thediscsaga on tumblr!) i honestly loved writing this and i hope you love this fic as much as i do!  
> just a little sidenote - azzie you are so nice and sweet! and i'm glad to call you one of my friends <3 you honestly deserve the world queen <3
> 
> \- edit (as of 22/02/21). i have only realised now that i used georges last name in this story. according to the post below it was released by fans, and george himself said that he wasn't comfortable with people using it. at the time of writing this, i didn't know this. i have edited it since (though very sleep deprived and tired), if it is mentioned again (in case i have missed it); please do tell me through comments or my ask box on tumblr.   
> https://technosoot.tumblr.com/post/643779533456261120  
> (the source)

“What the fuck are _you_ doing here?”

Clay felt like committing a major crime; he took a deep breath, trying to control himself.  
He looked the man opposite him up and down. His eyes didn’t linger, only a quick glance at the almost unfamiliar figure.

It had been a good few years since he saw that face. As much as he hated to admit it, he looked _good_ . Perhaps, even better than he remembered.   
His brown hair was longer; small curls stuck to his forehead _(it was crazy how much Clay wanted to run his fingers through it)_ _  
_ Tiny freckles painted his face, making him look like a piece of art, and his skin was clear as always.

Clay leaned against the green room door, an arm resting on the wall to balance himself. He glared at the man standing opposite him.

“What do you mean? Forgot about me already, Dream?” The voice pulled him back to his senses.

There was a pause, then the other man gasped dramatically, grinning, “Oh, you didn’t! How could you? It hasn’t been that long, has it?” He laughed, infuriating Clay by each second that went by.

He watched the figure lean up against the white wall behind him. He had already made himself at home (which Clay hated).

“Don’t fucking call me that.”

“Awh, little Dream’s angry at me calling him a name.” The man pouted his lips as he feigned sadness. “Oh no, what should I do?”

“Shut the _fuck_ up. You don’t have the right to call me that.”

He did nothing but smile.

“So, you just had to get this role? Out of, like, I don’t know, a million others. You’re a good actor, George – there must be loads of more parts for you.” Clay shot him a sickly-sweet smile, the one he knew George loathed. He couldn’t help but smirk at the thought.

George was an enigma. He had fascinated Clay since the first day they met each other. Then he realised how much of a dick he was, and then he thought very differently. _(Well, he wasn’t exactly outwardly a dick. But it didn’t matter. Clay didn’t like him, regardless. And he was sure George reciprocated.)_

Clay didn’t know why he hated him _. (Hate was a strong word, and he didn’t really know if it was the right word.)_ He remembered his first day at university. He was thrilled, almost shaking from excitement.

He met George, maybe, only a few minutes after he settled in. They lived in the same building, different floors _(thankfully)_.

Clay didn’t know if he woke up on the wrong side of the bed, or maybe, today was just not his day. Whatever it was – George acted like a real wanker the first time they met _. And the second time. And the third._

Soon enough, Clay began to think that it might’ve been him. He wasn’t one to make assumptions from the first meeting, but George was a different case. He was almost immediately put-on Clay’s ‘Avoid’ list. It was something he made when he was quite young, but it helped. It stuck with him all the way since he was little, and there was no getting away from it.

It was, essentially, a list that Clay had made, to help keep track of the people he should avoid. Some were exes, or old high school friends, but most were people that Clay thought weren’t good for him. The ones that would only bring him down – and he knew he didn’t need that at all.

He had avoided him ever since. Yet, as he grew older that turned more into a hate. He didn’t know why, though. Just the thought of him infuriated him.

They always used to compete, for better roles, grades – for anything. Putting them together was a recipe for chaos.

“No need for the flattery, Clay. But thank you, nonetheless. Never knew you were this nice. (Clay rolled his eyes at this, crossing his arms in frustration.) But no, I’m perfectly fine with this role. Seems fun, don’t it? But, you know, unless you have a problem with anything…?” George trailed off his sentence, knowing there wasn’t much he could say in the workplace.

Clay wanted to punch him where it would hurt, but, instead, he forced a smile. “’Course not, George, I’m _just_ _fine_.” He wasn’t dumb. This wasn’t the place he could be fighting with him. At least, not now.

“Boys! Glad to see you’ve met each other! Finally, the two main characters can get to know each other!” A deep voice laughed, walking up to Clay, placing a hand on his shoulder. He looked between the two faces, studying their expressions.

“Uh, _what_?” The boys simultaneously said.

“Does that mean, we’re each other’s…”

“Love interest?” Clay finished for George.

“No, no, no – that can’t be right.” George backed away slightly, a quizzical look on his face.

“I mean, what do you mean? At the audition, you guys were told that it was going to be an MLM film, right?”

“Well, yeah. We did know that.” Clay started, looking _very_ uncomfortable. “But, I just didn’t know _he_ would be one of the main characters.

“So, I take it you’ve met before?”

Through gritted teeth, Clay smiled, nodding his head hesitantly. “Yes, Schlatt. We met in uni.”

“Acquaintances, some may say.” George said with a smirk (all of a sudden, finding this whole situation funny.) 

“Nobody says. We’re colleagues and nothing more.” Clay realised his arms were still crossed; body still tensed. He immediately tried to soften up, failing miserably.

“Right, well there’s not much we can do now, lads. Unless one of you guys wants to drop out now? It’ll be harder to find a replacement, but if it really bugs you…” Schlatt nodded as he realised the tension in the room, looking at the two men, waiting for an answer.

“Oh! Don’t worry about it! We’re adults, aren’t we, Clay? I’m sure we can work just _fine_.” George shot Clay a toothy smile.

Clay chewed at the inside of cheek, “yeah, we’re fine.” He hated to say it, but he didn’t want to make a scene.

“Uh, well, that’s great! Puffy’s giving out the scripts today, so be in the main room in five.” And with that, Schlatt swiftly left the room, in hopes of not making an already awkward situation more awkward.

George felt Clay’s eyes staring at him. He fidgeted on the spot, feeling slightly uncomfortable. “Got something to say?”

Clay cleared his throat, “No.”

“Well then, I guess I’ll see you in a bit.” He gave him one last glare _(just for his sake)_ and walked out.

George felt dumb. And angry. ( _He didn’t know if they were the right words. Angry didn’t even begin to explain his emotions_.)

He was angry at himself; he was angry at his stupid decisions and he was angry at eighteen-year-old him.

When he got an email from his manager (who also happened to be his best friend), Wilbur, about this fantastic role, he couldn’t really say no.

It seemed like everything he ever wanted. Good hours, good pay and not to mention, a good director.

But, in hindsight, it wasn’t the best idea. There would’ve been a hundred more things that George could’ve done that were better than this.

But no, he just really had to fuck this all up by saying one word. _Yes_.

The first time they met was in their first year of University. George was buzzing, he finally had his own place (even though it was only shit Uni accommodation), and he was happy to start on his degree in acting.  
He knew he was fucked when he first saw Clay. He couldn’t even form a coherent sentence. The man was so pretty it made George stutter. He tried to act like he was fine, but, god, it was hard. The man was built like a Greek God.   
He had an athlete’s body, dirty blonde hair and freckles painted his face. George could feel his knees go weak.

George didn’t mean to act like he did. He was nervous and so fucking intimidated; his mind went blank. He was pretty sure he forgot his own name.

As the terms went by, Clay would either choose to ignore George or just treat him like a pile of shit. So, George reciprocated. His little childish crush soon turned into a little childish hate.

Although the two had mutual friends, and their friend group overlapped. They were never seen alone together. They didn’t even look in the other’s direction. The whole thing was so petty, it was almost funny. 

“Right, hello everyone! I’m Puffy! And I’m the producer of this wonderful remake!” Puffy smiled warmly at the crew. She stood on the filming stage, facing the crew as they stood in front of her. “You’d all be getting the scripts today, then we’ll be filming the first scene on Monday.”

George watched as she handed a bulky stack of paper around. Once his got to his hands, he smiled, staring at it in awe.

“The first scene we’ll be filming starts on page 98, and hopefully we’ll be able to get to 105. It’ll focus primarily on George and Clay’s characters. You guys can have a look over the script on the weekend and practice that scene.” She caught George’s eyes and shot him a small wink. “We’re not expecting you guys to get it first shot, so most of the day will be focused on that one scene. Schedules for the next few weeks will always be in the main room if you ever forget!”

George felt a pair of his eyes on him, so he looked up from where he was standing.

He didn’t know why but Clay was so noticeable in the crowd. His tall figure stood at the other side of the room, holding his script with one hand. George couldn’t help but stare at the man’s fingers, watching it curl pages over.

The two locked eyes before George broke it. Shaking his head at himself, he stared back down at the script.

“And that’s it! If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to email me or Schlatt. We’ll be happy to answer any!” Puffy turned to the man beside her, giving him a small nudge. He mumbled something under his breath, “yeah, yeah. Now get out, we’ll see you all on Monday.”

* * *

George sighed. Leaning back on his car seat, he picked up his phone and rang the first person that came to mind. He perked up at the sound of the ringing, elbows resting on top of his steering wheel.

“Wil, I’m fucked.”

A low laugh resonated from the other side of the phone. “Well, hello to you too, Gogy.”

“Wilbur,” he whined, “I’m being serious. I want to fucking die.”

“What happened to you now?” Wilbur Gold couldn’t help but smile. In all the years he knew George, he was always a dramatic bitch. (One of the reasons he loved him so much.)

“Guess who’s my fucking love interest.”

There was a pause.

“Who?” Wilbur couldn’t help but snicker slightly.

George frowned at the phone in his hands, “Why’re you smiling?”

“And how do you know that? You can’t even see me.” He stated simply, smile still as wide as before.

“I can fucking tell. Now tell me. _Please_.”

“Oh, no reason. By any chance, is your love interest a certain someone that we may or may not have gone to University with?”

“Wilbur FUCKING Gold! You fucking knew, you little shit!”

“’Course I did! I literally booked you the interview, and love you too, George!” Wilbur replied in a cheery tone, unable to wipe the grin off his face.

George placed his phone in a gap near the cupholder. He started the car and sighed, “so why didn’t you tell me? It would’ve saved me _so_ much shit.”

“Because” he started out in a half singing voice. “If you knew, you wouldn’t have taken the job. I know you – you wouldn’t even have taken the audition. And you would miss a perfectly good role, for no reason.”

The other man frowned, taking a hand off the steering wheel to run it through his hair.

Wilbur waited for a reply. And there was none.

“See, I know you like yourself. Maybe even better.”

“Shut up.”

Wilbur smiled, “Do you want me to come over? We can watch a film or something, I don’t know. Maybe even go through your script?”

“As much as I hate you right now, yeah, I’d like that. I’m on my way home now, if you come before me – you have the spare keys anyway – just make yourself at home.”

“Yeah, he found out today. Was bound to anyway, we both knew they were going to see each other.” Wilbur Gold was sitting on the few small steps in front of George’s house, phone resting carefully on his knees.

“They can’t back out now, can they?” A voice from the other side of the phone asked. It sounded relatively tired, voice gravelly and deep.

“Well, the thing is, they _could_. But I doubt they will, because, for one, it’ll be good for both of their careers. And, secondly, they’re both stubborn as shit, so I highly doubt it.”

The voice snorted, “True. I doubt Clay would even think about dropping out now, he’s already _so_ interested in telling me all about George. And what he looks like, and how’s he changed, how his eyes are…”

Wilbur stifled a laugh, “Wait, Nick, be serious. Really?”

“Yes! Since he’s got home all he’s fucking talking about is George. And I’m sitting there nodding along, wondering why they haven’t kissed yet!”

The two laughed in unison, bonding over their idiotic friends.

Wilbur looked up the sound of a car parking in the driveway. “Sap, I’m going to have to call you later, man. George just got here, so…”

“Oh, yeah, okay. Talk to you later, Wil.” And with that Wilbur ended the call, placing his phone in the pocket in his jeans.

“Gogy!” Wilbur stood up in his place, shouting at the other man, although he was only a few feet away.

“Fuck _off_ , Wil.”

“Wow, I’m really feeling the love, right now.”

“Why aren’t you in the house already?” George looked at him, eyebrows raising as he grabbed his keys from his back pocket.

“What, so now it’s a crime to wait for your best friend?”

George opened the door to his house, almost instantly relaxing. “ _Wilbur_.”

“Fineeee,” he dragged out, walking behind George. “I may or may not have lost the keys that you gave me.”

“Wilbur, you better fucking run because I _will_ murder you. First, you didn’t even fucking tell me about Clay, now this. I hate you.”

“I swear to god, I hate you so much. As much as I love you, bro, please shut the fuck up.” Nick Armstrong groaned from his desk. He spun his chair to face Clay, watching him as he lay on his bed.

Nick Armstrong, or Sapnap, was Clay’s best friend from college. He was cocky, funny and (only slightly) annoying. The pair were inseparable since the first day – platonic soulmates, some may say. The two had met on the first term, bonding over their weird neighbour across the hall. Nick had a degree in Computer Science, while Clay pursued his degree in acting – both careers going a long way.

And now, the two live together, in a mediocre apartment in the city.

“No. I’m pissed and deserve this.” Clay said, hugging the pillow between his arms tighter.

“This?” Nick asked. “ _This_ isn’t a therapy session, dude. And it’s not even that big of a deal. So, what, you’re working with George? Grow up, that’s life.”

“I’m touched. Such nice words.”

Nick spun back to face his PC, “yeah, you’re welcome. Now get out of my room, please.”

“Nooo,” Clay whined, turning so he was now face-first in Nick’s covers. “At least, just let me stay here, I’ll be quiet. Promise.”

“Fine.”

Clay didn’t want to think. He didn’t want to know what any of his feelings meant. Everything was so fucking confusing; it was giving him a headache. He was still on Nick’s bed, but now he was under the covers having an existential crisis. Earphones in, he tried to block out everything in his mind.

It worked for a bit, until he forced himself to get up and go to his room.

Nick, still at his PC, didn’t say anything to him – he only raised his eyebrows, eyes following him out of the room.

As soon as Clay got under the covers on his own bed, everything just got worse. It was almost like his brain didn’t want him to rest. It didn’t want him to rest until it got answers (and as much as he hated to admit it, Clay wanted answers too.)

Seeing George today was strange, but in a good way. If he was being completely honest, he missed him. He missed seeing him. It had been a few long years since they’ve seen each other like that. Probably their last day of University. 

He couldn’t stop thinking about him. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t leave Clay’s mind.

During their last years, Clay forced himself to hate George. To, you know, keep the whole thing up. Something happened in that year – almost like a switch flipped. He suddenly felt something else towards the man. _Something_. But he didn’t know what it was.

3 years later, after all the repressed feelings – it came back.

The butterflies, the smiles, the nervousness. He felt like he was 20 again. And, once again, he had to push it all back down – he didn’t want to think about it too much. He didn’t want to think about what _could_ happen. There wasn’t any time for that.

So, he didn't. Clay soon drifted off in a dreamless sleep, trying to finally find some peace. 

* * *

Monday came by fast. _(Too fast for the both of them.)_

After reading the whole script just the night before _(surprise, surprise!)_ Clay ended up running late. And instead of rushing to the set, he decided since he was already late – he might as well grab a cup of coffee.

Unlike most, George came in early. He was sitting in the green room absentmindedly scrolling through Twitter. His script was placed next to him, after he decided to skim through it once more.

He didn’t look up until he heard the soft _poof_ of someone sitting on the sofa opposite him. He looked up, eyebrows raising at the man in front of him.

Clay placed his bottle on the table, slipping out his phone in hopes to avoid any interaction.

He didn’t look at George since he walked in, as he wasn’t planning to any time soon.

“Hey,” George said softly.

And, well, Clay’s plan went to shit.

As soon as he heard George’s voice, he melted. He ended up giving in, looking up at the man.

He shot him a small smile, “Hi.”

George didn’t know why his heart was beating so fast. He didn’t know why he suddenly felt self-conscious. (If anybody knew George, they would’ve known that he was the cockiest, confident bitch ever, so this was definitely a change.)

His leg was bouncing up and down as he chewed on the inside of his lip. He tried to concentrate on his Twitter feed, but I didn’t really work. George’s mind was flooded with numerous emotions, he felt like he could do nothing about.

Over the weekend, Clay basically lived in George’s mind. He always thought about him, ever since that conversation with Wilbur. (As much as he hated to admit it, he knew Wil was right. He was too stubborn to quit, and he also knew Clay well enough to know that he was also as stubborn as him.)

Clay cleared his throat, which bought George back to reality.

“Sorry about the other day.” He said into the silent room. He looked over to George to see his expression, to see if he could read any of it, he tried, but failed.

George’s face was straight and emotionless. “Why?”

“I don’t know, acting like a dick. I was rude to you, and I didn’t really have a reason.”

“Clay apologising? Who ever knew that was possible?” George tried to stand his ground, he tried to act like normal. But it all felt _fake_ , it was like a façade. He tried to act like he normally did, confident and petty (and he really hoped it worked)

Clay sighed, “I take it back, I have a perfectly good reason.”

“And, what’s that?” George asked with a smile.

“You don’t deserve my pity.”

George’s mouth dropped, his eyebrows raising in shock. “What the fuck did you just say?”

“Oh, didn’t you hear me? I pity you, George. I thought I made it quite clear.” Almost instantly Clay regretted what he said, but he didn’t do anything about it. Instead, he let the tension hang thick in the air.

George remained silent (and as much as Clay wanted to count this as a win, he couldn’t help but feel bad for what he had said. Guilt eating up at him, he broke eye contact with the man and took a small sip of his coffee).

“Hey, guys!” A warm voice said, after knocking on the already open door. Puffy stood there with a water bottle in hand, and a friendly smile on her face. “Just wanted to ask you guys, if you’ve read the script? We’ll be running through the first scene in a bit, then we’ll get the cameras out.”

The two responded with their own variant of the word ‘yes’, gaining another beaming smile from Puffy.

“That’s great! So, when you two are ready, be in the main room at five. We might as well get started!”

Clay internally groaned. He hated the first day and he hadn’t even lasted an hour. He really just had to fuck things up with that stupid brain of his.

His feet dragged behind George’s as they both followed Puffy shortly after.

He quickly flicked to the page he needed to be, and–

_Fuck._

_This scene._

Being half delirious and sleep deprived while reading through a script was probably not the best idea, Clay thought. It had been too long (only 2 days) for him to remember all the small scenes. To be completely honest, Clay was happy in those two days where he forgot the scenes.

He didn’t have to stress.

He didn’t have to think about all the times where him and George would be together, in an uncomfortable close space. He didn’t have to think about the scenes that would keep him up at night if he forgot him.

“So, just to double check, you both are okay with this?”

Clay nodded, George following suit.

“Okay! Great! Now, I’m gonna get you guys to run through this a little by yourselves, and in about 20 minutes we’ll see if we can start filming.”

“Cameras are on! So, whenever you’re ready George.” Schlatt nodded over in George’s direction, taking a seat next to Puffy.

“I love you, I’ve always had – there’s no denying it. I can’t keep lying to you, at least not anymore.” George looked down, unable to meet the other’s eyes. 

Clay started to speak, his mouth open and ready, but nothing came out. Millions of thoughts racked his brain. He didn’t know where to start. He breathed in deeply, trying to slowly make out a sentence and process his thoughts. _(This wasn’t part of the script, surely. He wasn’t meant to feel like this. It was all just acting. All a_ _façade_ , _this wasn’t real. The feelings weren’t real.)_ He tried to ingrain those thoughts in his head, he just wanted to deny _, deny, deny_. It was all Clay was doing at this point. He didn’t want to come to terms with his emotions. If he did, well, then, he would’ve been fucked.

Clay hated how close they were. He hated how close George was to his lips. All he really wanted to do was lean in, but he knew that couldn’t happen. The two were standing directly in front of each other, in Clay’s character’s bedroom. The lights were dim, and the curtains were drawn. Clay, having most of the height, was towering over George. George wasn’t looking up, though. His eyes were level to Clay’s chest, not daring to look any further. Hands were centimetres apart, fingers almost touching. Clay could almost _feel_ George’s body heat. 

“Look, I know you probably don’t feel the same. I mean, why would you? We’ve hated each other, since, well, forever. But I love you, Cl– Michael _(Fuck, fuck fuck!)_ . I love you so fucking much. And I can’t do anything about it, and it _kills_ me every _single_ day.” George tried to ignore the feeling in his chest. He tried to ignore his heart beating dangerously fast. He tried to ignore the stares of all the crew, probably all thinking the same thing. He couldn’t afford to fuck this up. Only one take – and then they can move on.

George felt like his heart was breaking, slowly crumbling into small pieces, while simultaneously getting ripped out of his chest. But he was about to laugh. _It was all so ridiculously funny_ , he thought. It was truly a coincidence he felt the same as his character. 

Ashamed, heartbroken, and defeated. _It was peak comedy_. 

If he could turn back time, he would’ve. He would’ve not taken the role, not over thought, and he _should’ve_ left in the first week of filming. Now, it was all too late. There was nothing he could do. 

He remembered the script, _shit._ He leaned in slightly, not too far, though, but enough to make Schlatt carry on with the scene. Clay mirrored his actions, though George thought he didn’t want to. Clay’s hand was on George’s face, his thumb slowly caressing his soft cheek. He leaned in further, his eyes not moving from George’s lips.

It felt like time stopped for the both of them. George looked up and stared at Clay’s eyes. Nothing else was important. The two forgot about their worries, the crew, anything that was irrelevant – right there and then, it felt like they were the only two in the world.

Clay could feel George’s breath on his face, he could see light freckles which were planted on his face. He’d never looked at him this close before, Clay had never realised how pretty George was. _(Well, he did. But being this close to him was something different.)_

Cheeks red, and hands shaking, Clay gently pulled George’s face closer to his. He breathed in deeply–

**_“Okay. And... End scene!”_ **

_Fuck._

Almost immediately the men separated from the position they were in. George’s breath was shaky, and Clay? Well, he didn’t really want to think about it. 

He tried to ignore all the thoughts in his head. Everything was all crazy and jumbled up. 

Clay breathed in deeply, trying to calm himself down. 

“Right guys, that was great!” He watched as Puffy got up from her chair and walked closer to the pair. “So, we were thinking that we’d move onto the next scene, ‘cause Schlatt and I we’re pretty happy with that. Take a ten minute break and then we’ll carry on.” 

* * *

As soon as they had finished filming, disregarding all the looks he got, Clay grabbed a water bottle and quickly went to his dressing room. All he wanted to do was run away, he couldn’t stop thinking about that scene. He felt like a coward, but he didn’t know what else to do.

“What the fuck?”

“Forgot about me already? That’s low, Dream, even for you.” A voice from the sofa chuckled.

“Fuck off, Sap. I’m really not in the mood right now.”

“Oh, what happened?” The guy feigned curiosity: a small, playful smile was painted on his face. “Finally realised your homoerotic feelings for George, then?”

“Nick, I swear to God, _shut up_. I will actually murder you.” Clay walked over to where the other was sitting. He sighed, resting his head on Sap’s shoulder. “I’ve had a long day, Sap. To be honest, all I want to do right now is sleep.”

Almost instantly Nick’s face went softer, “oh, what happened? You’re done for the day, no? Just have a nap when we get home, I’ll drive.”

“God, I love you so fucking much.”

“Yeah, yeah. Love you too, dude.”

Clay managed a small but grateful smile in return, too tired to really say anything else. He almost instantly relaxed, feeling Nick’s fingers through his hair. It wasn’t long till Clay dozed off.

* * *

Clay woke up at 2am. Rubbing his eyes, he looked around the dimly lit room. He was still in the clothes he wore from the morning. Just a pair of jeans and an old t-shirt, nothing special. He was sprawled under the covers of his bed, feeling cold, and surprisingly tired.

Clay didn’t want to wake up. He didn’t _exactly_ wish for death, it was more along the lines of, _he just wanted to sleep away his troubles_. Or he didn’t want to stay awake and admit his thoughts. And those thoughts? George.

That’s it.

As much as it pained him to say it – he couldn’t get George out of his head. Especially after the scene they just filmed.

He couldn’t stop thinking about George’s lips, inching closer to his. Clay couldn’t stop thinking about the feeling of his hand on George’s cheek. He couldn’t stop thinking about George’s eyes – looking up into his, shimmering under the light. They were soft and pleading, and it made Clay feel something he didn’t particularly like. He couldn’t help but think if George felt the same as him.

His head was pounding. And, somehow, in his groggy state, he thought alcohol was the best pain killer. So, he ended up in the kitchen, directly in front of the liquor cabinet. He didn’t bother to notice which one he picked up. _A game of chance_ , he thought, as he took a long swig of the bottle.

It wasn’t long after till Clay was tipsy. At this point it was nearing 3am. Now, the grogginess had left, leaving him in a state of alertness. He figured Nick was still awake, because he could hear small whispers every now and again, and almost silent shuffling.

Nothing good happens when Clay is sleep deprived. Not to mention, sleep deprived and _(slightly)_ drunk.

“Nick?” Clay was at his roommate’s door, knocking quietly before walking in.

“Well, they’re both as bad as each other–” Nick looked up, eyebrows raising. He went to quickly pull his headphones off his ears, staring up at this other man. “Clay? I thought you were asleep?” 

“Can you give me George’s number? I mean–” He stopped himself mid-sentence, “You do have it right?” 

“Uh, yeah I do. I can message it to you?” 

“That’s fine,” Clay quickly added before leaving Nick’s room as fast as possible. He didn’t plan for it to go _that_ way. Maybe ease him in with a conversation, but the nerves got the best of him.

This wasn’t like Clay. He would rarely get flustered, or nervous, nobody had that power over him. _(Well, except for George.)_

Clay was pacing around his room, heart beating too fast for it to be normal. He wanted to turn back time, but it was too late now. He knew if didn’t do anything Nick would be on his case. _(And he would never forgive himself. He knew he would regret it.)_

Every move he was making he regretted. Walking to Nick’s room, asking for the number, pressing dial.

It was a few rings before George picked up. It seemed like the call woke him up, his voice deeper than usual, and tiredness evident in his voice.

“Hello? Who’s calling?”

“Clay. It’s Clay.” He managed to sputter out. He was too distracted by George’s voice. His mind wandered to what he would’ve looked like. Maybe his hair was scruffier, eyes only slightly open, still blinking and getting used to the light.

“ _Oh_ . How did you get my number?” George was as confused as he sounded. Eyebrows raised, mouth agape, he tried to figure out any possible reason why Clay – the same Clay he knew since he was 18, would call _him_. Especially at this time. Not to forget, George was the man that he had hated since he knew him.

“I asked Nick. ‘Figured he had it. I just wanted to talk to you, is all.”

George nodded, getting more comfortable in bed. Wanting to hear more of Clay’s voice– _no more of his story_.

The pair soon came to a comfortable silence, both, on the either ends of the phone, grinning like idiots.

George sucked in a breath. Biting his lip, and trying to swallow any nerves, “So, what did you want to talk about?”

“Right,” the other man laughed slightly, cursing to himself silently, “forgot about that part. Uh, well, to be honest. I didn’t really know what I wanted to talk about– well, I do. I just don’t know how to, uh, say it.”

George nodded, “I get that. Take your time, Dream, I have the whole night.”

For the first time, Clay didn’t mind George calling him ‘Dream’. It felt nice. He loved the way it sounded when he said it. It was like sweet honey. It was warm and comforting.

Clay swallowed the lump in his throat. “Can I see you? I want to tell you in person.”

* * *

George was beginning to wonder why he said yes. It was cold, wet, and he looked like a freak – sitting on the swings in the middle of a park, at 4 in the morning.

He was absentmindedly swinging back and forth, hands stuffed deep into his pockets, begging for warmth. He didn’t notice anyone next to him before he saw a figure kick a rock beside him. 

The taller man sat on the swing next to George, moving his body further to him. His hair was messily combed, curls swaying with the wind.

George felt like he would have fainted there and then. Although only wearing jogging bottoms and a hoodie, Clay looked like a god. _(Him and his stupid jock body. George looked like a sixteen-year-old next to him)_

“Sorry for making you come out here this late. Just thought it’d be better than over call.” Clay sounded nervous, his voice was shaky and couldn’t seem to lock eyes with George.

George kicked a stone, watching it skid past the stone floor. “It’s fine, I don’t mind.” He moved to the side, legs almost touching Clay’s. The two simultaneously blushed, cheeks red as each other’s. “Now, what did you want to say?”

Clay came prepared. Which was the reason he was so late. He ended up telling Nick, seeing as he was awake as well, and that Clay was literally going to break down. They managed to get some sort of a plan as to what to say. He wasn’t going to tell Nick, but Clay had a script.

It was what he knew.

But the second those words came out of George’s mouth? _Boom_. Everything gone. It was like it was never there. So that left him to be a stuttering mess.

“Well, uh, remember earlier today? I, that scene, I just couldn’t stop thinking about it – like whatever I did, I just couldn’t stop thinking about it – about _you_.”

George looked down, breathing heavily. His cheeks were burning, he didn’t want Clay to see his face.

“I’m sorry,” Clay said, looking up to George watching what he was going to do next. He felt like he overstepped a line, maybe he didn’t feel the same, maybe Clay just saw something that wasn’t there. “I get if you feel weird–”

Clay was silenced by George’s hand on his thigh, “It’s fine. You can carry on.”

He whispered a small ‘oh’, intently staring at the hand on his leg.

“I’m not going to lie; I’ve probably felt like this since we met. But I don’t know, I felt like I _had_ to hate you. I mean, you were _you_. How could I not? And with the fact that, I thought you hated me – it just made things a whole lot more complicated.”

Clay started to fiddle with the strings of his hoodie, trying to distract himself from, well – everything.

He chuckled to himself, “I feel like I’m twelve again. With all these… _feelings_.”

George raised an eyebrow, “so you only had feelings when you were twelve?”

Clay scoffed playfully, lightly shoving George to the side. He came back almost immediately, swinging and banging Clay on his side. They both grinned crazily.

“Oh, shut up! Anyway, I’ve felt like this for a while, and I probably should’ve told you – instead of, uh, just carrying on with… well, you know.”

George nodded encouragingly, staring at him – eyes soft and a small smile on his face. Under the light of the moon (and the glow of the artificial streetlights), he looked beautiful. His skin was as clear as the sky, only freckles lightly painted on it. Hair messy and fluffy, slowly poking out from the protection of his hood. He looked like a painting – something incomparable. _He really was a piece of art._

“‘You just going to keep looking at me till I say something?”

Clay blinked, frowning at the other man. “Huh?”

George stared at him till he got the message. The taller man blushed, “sorry,” he smiled sheepishly.

“You don’t need to apologise,” George said, rubbing his hand comfortingly on Clay’s thigh, yet again, smiling softly in the dark.

“Wait,” Clay started, “so do you feel the same? Like, I know I’m still a little confused. But even the slightest bit, or–”

“If I didn’t feel the same, do you think I would be still here? With _you._ In the middle of a random park, at four in the morning, in this fucking cold?” His tone wasn’t cold, instead, the biggest grin was plastered on his face – like a kid in a candy store.

“Clay, I like you too– God you were right. I really do feel like I’m twelve.”

“See! I’m not being dumb!”

“Never said you were.”

“Yeah, but I know you thought it!”

“Oh, really?” George did that thing where his eyebrows would raise, a dirty smirk on his face, and he rolled his eyes for effect. _(He knew what he was doing to Clay and he loved every second of it)_

The other groaned, “stop that!”

If it was even possible, George’s grin grew wider, “do what?”

“You know what you’re doing – don’t even _try_ to deny it.”

Eventually he broke, bursting in a fit of giggles. “Yeah, I do.”

“I hate you so much.

George grinned playfully, “No, you don’t.”

“Yeah, I don’t.” Clay agreed breathlessly, still laughing slightly.

The pair came to a comfortable silence. George was swinging slowly, moving his hands purposely closer to Clay’s.

Fingers brushed against each other, cheeks painted red, and making hearts beat faster. George, with a sudden rush of confidence, grabbed Clay’s hand – lacing it with his. It was warm and comforting, and he was glad Clay didn’t pull away. 

Instead, the taller man smiled bashfully at the ground – too shy to really say anything else.

Clay brushed his fingers over George’s hand, feeling his soft skin over his thumb. He desperately wanted to compare hand sizes, he smiled more at the thought.

He wanted something out of the films, he wanted to sit in a small restaurant, with George opposite him. He wanted to put his hands against the other’s, laughing at the difference.

Clay wanted the small things.

Sharing hoodies, holding hands – he wanted something that he never had before. He wanted _someone_ . Someone to be there, someone to be _his_.

And for the first time in a while, Clay thought that could happen.

“I’m sorry.” Clay suddenly said, letting go of George’s hand.

George looked at him quizzically, “For what?”

“I don’t know. Still going along with the whole ‘I hate you’ act when I knew I liked you. It was a dick move. I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

George smiled softly at the statement, “You don’t need to apologise. I mean, I still went along with it too when I knew. We’re both just dumb.”

“Yeah,” Clay snorted.

“Anyway, it’s getting late, Clay. We should get going.” George patted Clay’s leg; _I could get used to this._

The blonde replied with a nod, standing up, hands intertwined with George.

“I’m glad I told you.”

“I’m glad you told me too.”

The two walked hand in hand down the road, leaning into each other every so often for comfort and warmth. 

They walked in a comfortable silence to the train station. There wasn’t any noise except for the occasional buzz of a car driving past in the busy city.

“I’ll get going,” George started, his voice low and steady. He turned his body to face Clay, finally letting go of his hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He smiled, for once happy about the work arrangements.

Clay wasn’t sure if he was going to go for it. He wanted it to be like the moves – he wanted to say something cheesy before he left, something that would make George think about it forever.

His hand was shaking as he placed it at the back of George’s neck. He pulled him closer, smiling at the familiar feeling. Memories of earlier on flashed in Clay’s mind. With a smirk, he closed the gap, putting his lips on George’s.

He tried to ignore the butterflies in his stomach and the feeling of his cheeks heating up. Everything just felt too surreal – it was all crazy. It felt like a dream. 

He leaned back, grinning smugly. “Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Clay watched as George tried to stutter something out, failing miserably. With a nod and a sheepish smile, George walked ahead, disappearing after walking through the station.

Clay furrowed his eyebrows as he felt a small buzz from his pocket.

 **george** : i hate you so much

 **clay** : yeah sure :)

 **george** : die <3

**Author's Note:**

> @technosoot on tumblr!


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